


Morning Tea

by queuebird



Series: AELDWS 2019 [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur/Eames Last Drabble Writer Standing, Bitter Dregs, M/M, Pining, Tea, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-09-23 02:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queuebird/pseuds/queuebird
Summary: Arthur cradles his teacup in gentle hands, the steam rising up in curls that fog his glasses and soften his face in the late morning light.





	Morning Tea

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU Alex for the beta!!!!!

Arthur cradles his teacup in gentle hands, the steam rising up in curls that fog his glasses and soften his face in the late morning light. He tilts his head as he gazes out of the kitchen window, and pale sun spills across his cheekbones. A shadow, warm brown, blinks open and shut under his lower lip and in the hollow of his throat as he swallows.

“This is good,” he says, low and rough, like it’s the first time he’s spoken all day. Like he’s afraid of bursting the delicate hazy shield hiding his face.

“Hmmm?” Eames fiddles with the edge of the tablecloth, strands fraying against his fingertips.

Arthur turns back towards Eames, his eyes honeyed. He lifts the cup, and shadows slant across his chest and the softness of his midnight-blue cardigan.

“The tea,” Arthur says, and smiles, small. Warmth pools by his eyes and in his mouth and cheeks.

Eames drops his eyes quickly, then looks back up. “I thought you’d like it,” he says.

Arthur resumes his contemplation of the view outside the window. “Where’d you get it?”

He nearly died stopping to buy it at a Hong Kong street market, two armed men in hot pursuit.

Eames shrugs. “Around,” he says. 

“Mmm.” Arthur tips the rest into his mouth, too quickly, and winces when he reaches the dregs. The sun rises into the branches of a birch and dapples his face in sapphire. He sets the teacup down on the table, delicate floral white against sea green. “I have to go,” he says.

Eames blinks at him. In his hands, the threads of the tablecloth fall apart. “Go?” 

“Yeah, I...” Arthur casts his gaze down, dropping his eyes into twilight. His finger runs up and down the handle of the cup. “I’ve got a date.”

Eames stares. “Date?” he repeats.

“Yeah. He’s really nice.” A different smile now. His eyes are on the table, on Eames’s kitschy place mat, but he’s looking somewhere else. Shadows blue his cheeks and nose and lips.

Eames hums an acknowledgement and doesn’t dare speak. The sun touches its summit and begins to fall back to Earth.

When Arthur leaves, Eames scrubs out his teacup in the sink, the last of the bitter dregs ringing the black hole of the drain.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://queuebird.tumblr.com)


End file.
